A long day pressed against an unyielding greyscale landscape, and it seems to go hard. It seems to go hard and grow harder, more intense, and yet it is dull. It is dull and colourless.
I am among its streets, its paths. I walk along and I move through a crowd. I become parts of crowds as I leave others and I weave around people. I weave through the space and I am in a continuous shade. I find my space crowded and filled and I see sunlight but it does not reach here. It is present and it is everywhere but this space is always in shade.
I walk and I wonder and I feel the air is thick. The air is heavy and the smell of something familiar begins to reach down.
Much like the landscape the sky is hard and intense, and it is dull and colourless. It seems to press on down, or at least reach but it remains up there, formless, spread out. It is up there and it is heaving, but it remains motionless. It remains still and through it motion cracks and whips here and there. Through the sky there are brief bursts of power and the sound of crackling and rumbling. The sky is not choosing to announce itself; it is a byproduct of the sky.
People hurry and I keep on walking and that familiar smell grows a little stronger, but maybe it is yet to arrive. Maybe it is the anticipation of the smell bringing forth memories of its existence. I keep on walking and as I do more space forms around me. The press of the flow breaks up and no longer am I weaving my way around people for people are disappearing. The area grows empty as it grows darker.
Soon the first drops of rain fall and it’s not long before more join in. I walk through it and I think to myself. I wonder as to how everything would appear if the space was more open, if it was a vast emptiness, and if I’d cast a shadow or if I’d appear as one.
The sky is still and violent. It whips and cracks but the sound of the rain is peaceful, and all seems to hold in time. All seems to fade into a static state but all keeps on moving. The moment is frozen in time and as it falls behind a new one is created, but I keep walking and I smell the rain as it hits the hardened surface, and I lose myself in thoughts that I am not thinking about. I am detached from what I am thinking of and I look forward and all I have is a blankness. I stare through the rain and I stare through the structures and I keep on walking, and I look toward home, and I wonder if I will return there someday or if I’ll become lost in the crowds when they return.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 09:05:58
This is in part inspired by some of the lines from the bit of writing I did on “Wheels of Progress” yesterday. I had an idea of expanding on those lines and ended up with something pretty different to what I thought I’d get.
I don’t think this is necessarily good, but I like the imagery that comes forward. It also touches on a sense of longing for something I won’t have again that I’ve had here and there so there is a personal element to this but it doesn’t feel overbearing. Maybe a bit awkwardly included, but otherwise I’m fine with it.
The speed was a bit slow but I think it was for the better.
Written at home.
Stupidity Hole 